


The Lavender Sweater

by polaropposites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaropposites/pseuds/polaropposites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Louis wants Harry’s sweater; Harry wants Louis<br/>Ship: Larry<br/>Trigger Warnings: None<br/>rating: just kissing and vanilla sex, no big kinks for this one.<br/>warning, it’s wordy, i write poetry and haven’t written a story in a while, so forgive me<br/>excerpt:<br/>When he first started tripping over his feet he was mad about it, complaining over his too big everything. But then he discovered he could wrap his hand around Louis’ side and that with just two fingers inside his lover, he could make him crazy. He was big and Louis was small, but it all worked out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lavender Sweater

When they finally got off the elevator the entire group exhaled as if they’d been holding their breath for a moment when they could actually feel like they were breathing. Harry immediately gravitates to Louis’ side, happy he finally can, exhausted that he hasn’t been able to. Louis gives him a small smile and grabs his hand. The group splits off one by one, muttering quiet goodbyes. 

Louis and Harry get to their door and both of them won’t say it, but they’re glad they decided to stay in the hotel, together. Louis takes off his hoody and kicks off his shoes before flying into their 50,000 count egyptian cotton bed. Harry just smiles, moving slowly and picking up after Lou as he goes. He’s at the foot of the bed and takes off the lavender sweater he’d been swimming in all day.

"Lou, I’m gonna shower. M’gross."  
"You are, get out of here," Louis jokes, staring at his awkward boyfriend as he seems to stumble to the bathroom in a tangle of limbs and no grace. When he hears the water start he stares at the sweater folded neatly at the edge of the bed. He still wonders to this day what’s the point of folding everything if he’s only going to throw it all in his suitcase anyway. He smiles to himself as he remembers Harry giving him a lecture about how most people don’t just toss clothes into suitcases and hope for the best. Before he knows it, he’s taking off all of his clothes and sliding the sweater over him. 

He likes that Harry gets cold quickly. It means by the time Louis gets to Harry’s clothes they smells like whatever cologne he felt like putting on, but mostly that earthly scent that’s purely his. He turns up the a.c. as an excuse to keep it on and looks at himself in the mirror. Louis giggles to himself because the sweater is past mid-thigh and his chest piece is almost completely visible — he’s just swimming in it. But it looks pretty and he feels pretty and even with how tired he is there is no doubt he’s going to want whatever Harry feels like offering when he sees him in his clothes. 

The shower cuts off and Louis jumps into bed, waiting for his boyfriend to come out. He’s always found it funny that despite how neat Harry is, the younger boy always soaks the floor in the shower like he’s too lazy to dry himself completely. Sometimes he just reminds Louis of a puppy; he just shakes and hopes his entire body dries as well as his mop of hair. 

When the door opens Harry is staring at the floor, as if he’s trying to avoid tripping over his feet on the way to his suitcase. It doesn’t do much help. He looks up and catches Louis sitting indian style, in a too big sweater that is four sizes too big. Louis smiles. Harry groans.

"You don’t like it?"  
"Lou."  
"Harry, come ‘ere," Louis whines. Harry just shakes his head and tries to steady the shaking in his hands. They’re not new to this, he always wants him — they always want each other. Harry just has this thing where he can’t help but be so completely fond of and attracted to his pixie sized boyfriend.

When he first started tripping over his feet he was mad about it, complaining over his too big everything. But then he discovered he could wrap his hand around Louis’ side and that with just two fingers inside his lover, he could make him crazy. He was big and Louis was small, but it all worked out in the end. 

Louis smiles at him softly, they both get like this sometimes. It’s scary to look at someone and completely unhinge. Louis took longer than Harry to get used to it. When he felt like he couldn’t love Harry any more something came along and proved him wrong. Out of spite he always tried to fight back, until he didn’t. Harry still gets like this, shaken up and a little scared just from the all encompassing attraction he has to Louis. Louis has just let it go.

"Hazza, come here babe," Louis whispers, almost as if he doesn’t want to scare off his doe-like boyfriend. Harry complies, shaking the towel on his head until his hair stops dripping and climbs into bed right next to Louis.

"You always look so, so …"  
"Small?" Louis smiles, so fond. "Tiny? Fragile?"  
"No, I wasn’t going to say small. I don’t know it’s just like you get more beautiful in my clothes. Which sounds stupid."  
"Doesn’t matter, I like that you like it."  
Harry bows his head with a soft flush over his cheeks, but follows Louis’ finger as it lifts his chin up. They do this sometimes, just stare at each other because they can. But it’s different. Like this, every single part of Louis that Harry loves the most, seems amplified. The sweater is making his eyes glow and Louis looks so soft, but so alluring. He can’t help it when he wraps a hand around Louis’ neck and tugs him softly towards him. They melt together, exhaustion leaving their bodies in an instant, this is recharging — this is rest.

Harry pulls off his towel, and leans into Louis until he’s on his back. He loves him like this, soft and real beneath him. There’s just something about the way Louis’ skin gives in to his fingers that makes him believe that he could never touch someone else again. He puts his hands everywhere he can, running them up Louis’ thighs, across his stomach and chest. Kissing him because he finally has the time to; because he can. Louis, moans, pulling Harry down, tighter to his body, so that he feels squished in between him and the mattress.

Rutting together, they’re both slowly coming apart and both trying to make up their minds if this is really how they want the night to end. Panting Harry pulls away, resting on an elbow, and slides a hand through Louis’ fringe.

"Love you, boo."  
"Love you. Love you. Want you," Louis whispers, pulling Harry back down and wrapping his legs around his waist. The friction almost kills him as their cocks rub together.

Louis pulls Harry back by his hair, “I want you in me.” He points at the bag on the floor willing Harry to hurry up. In seconds, Harry is back between his legs, nipping at his thighs with the bottle of lube in his hand. When Lou whimpers, he sits up and wets his fingers, sliding up the curvy body beneath him to place wet kisses on his collarbones. He captures Louis’ mouth and slides a finger in. Louis cries into the kiss, pushing himself back and Harry adds another finger. It’s tight and warm and Harry wants to rush and take his time all at once and it’s driving him crazy. He has never craved anything as much as Louis, in his life.

"Haz, put in the third. Want to feel you already," Louis begs, breathless and airy. Harry complies, with no question, sliding in a third, fucking his fingers in and out as Louis falls apart beneath him. Quickly, he takes Louis’ cock in his mouth, just to tease for a moment before he pulls out his fingers and slides himself in. Louis chokes on his intake of air, hands flying instantly to Harry’s hair to give it a tug, telling him to stop because he doesn’t want to come this way. Harry pushes his fingers in deep curving up one last time before pulling out and grabbing at the lube bottle again. 

Louis snatches the bottle away from him and sits up on the bed. Harry raises an eyebrow and Lou pushes lightly on his chest so he lays down.

"Gonna ride you, babe."  
"Fuck, Lou, yeah," Harry stutters, staring down at his boyfriend still swimming in his massive sweater. He doesn’t even see Louis pour the lube into his hand he just feels a lick up the vein on the underside of his cock that is quickly replaced with the pumping of Louis’ small hand. He meets his eyes and almost comes at the sight of ocean eyes and tiny Louis.

Louis gives a final pump and straddles Harry’s body, using the same hand to align himself as he slowly slides down Harry’s length. Instantly, his nails dig into the sparrows on Harry’s chest as his boyfriend squeezes his eyes closed and digs his fingers into his hips. He goes slow at first, up and down, back and forth, just exploring the feeling of having Harry fill him up. Then he picks up the pace, fucking himself onto Harry’s cock, moaning his name. When he starts to slow down, Harry grabs him by the hips and fucks up into him.

"God, fuck. Harry, please."  
"Lou, you look so good like this, love. Beautiful," Harry moans.

Harry slips out, and they chuckle at the moment, but soon Harry is sitting up and pulling his sweater off of Louis.

"Want you under me, want to feel all of you," he says, answering the question hanging in the air. Louis just lays back on the bed, spreading his legs until Harry settles between them and inches his way back in. It’s tight and warm and Harry feels like he’s dying every time they make love because it shouldn’t be possible to feel this good without experiencing death first. He takes his time, all smooth motions, and wandering hands. Kissing Louis wherever his mouth can reach. He freezes for a moment when Louis manages to perfectly slot his mouth against his. He gets dizzy off the taste and doesn’t start moving until Louis starts fucking down on him. 

He kisses a trail down Louis’ face until he gets to his collarbones and decorates them with is possession, feeling Louis lose it beneath him because they love this. When you can’t have someone it makes you want to claim them all the more. It’s a sport that leaves them with hickeys all over their body, but right now, he can feel Louis’ cock hot against his stomach and tight around him and he can barely breathe. 

"Fuck, you feel so good. Love you so much."  
"Harry, so close. Touch me please." Louis is quivering, heels digging into Harry’s back, clinging to him, waiting to feel the hand that’s going to bring him over the edge. Harry reaches down and runs a finger over his stomach, but passes his cock to rub right under his balls. Louis thinks he’s about to faint when Harry finally grabs him and starts pumping in earnest.

Harry leans down, miraculously balancing himself and whispers, “come on, you know you want to. Come baby. Come all over my hands. Do you want to come on my face?”

Louis loses it at the idea of Harry’s face streaked in white and spills between them, back arched off the bed as Harry keeps going, so close to his own orgasm. Louis starts pushing back again, moaning Harry’s name and looking absolutely debauched beneath him. Louis licks the tips of his fingers and runs them over Harry’s nipples. Harry’s pace stutters and Louis feels him warm and wet between them.

Harry just lays back down on Louis, complete disregard for the sticky mess between them and Louis grimaces.

"Styles, that’s absolutely horrid. I expect more from you."  
"Tired"  
"Well, I’m stuffed with cum and probably need to shower," Louis says, tone light with a grin on his face. Harry sits up, kisses Louis’ 78 tattoo, and gets off the bed. When Louis stands up he feels the cum dripping down his leg and it’s weird, but he loves it. 

The shower starts and they both climb in. Harry washing Louis up and rinsing him off. And maybe if Louis ends up leaning against the shower wall, cheeks spread with Harry eating him out, they don’t really have to talk about it.


End file.
